When Your Heart Releases
by shellcottages
Summary: Rumours are flying around Degrassi about seventeen-year-old Campbell Saunders, the all-star hockey player recently traded to the Toronto Ice Hounds. Maya Matlin is craving to know more; these horrible accusations about his past couldn't possibly be true, could they? AU.
1. Another Season

_**A/N**__: Hey everyone, I'm back! Literally two days after I finished writing the final chapter of _Stick On The Ice_, I came up with this idea and spent _ages _letting it develop into this full-length AU. And now, here you are :) Just so you know, I started this _very _early into Season 13, so a lot of the plots that have happened since have been excluded (i.e. in this story, all the newbies are friends with Maya and Tristan, what happened in Paris __… well, there _wasn't _a Paris trip at all, and so on.__) Mind you, this is AU, so it shouldn't be that big of a deal. Thank you for reading!_

* * *

**Chapter One: Another Season**

It still felt like summer. The air was still humid and everyone wore shorts and sleeveless tops that barely passed the school dress code. The holiday had been disgustingly hot, and many of the students stayed indoors with air conditioning on full-blast to avoid the sweltering heat. It was obvious who had access to a swimming pool, because they had bared the sun that had created awful red sunburns and clashing tan lines.

Maya Matlin was not among those who went for a summer swim. She stayed inside all holiday, preferring the stale, artificial breeze from the air vents to the feeling of her hair up in a ponytail and sunscreen slapped on her arms and legs. It may have meant she was still as pale as pale could be, but shutting herself in all summer had its perks; she finally managed to break down the mind block that affected her songwriting for over a year.

The first two years of high school were a challenge to Maya. It started off going wrong in the boy department (a fact that she often chose to ignore - so cliché and melodramatic) and then it went very, very wrong in the friend department. Grade 10 was just as much of a new start as Grade 9 was, except with a reputation and the absence of her older sister to guide her with as few bumps in the road as possible.

Finally, she had found a comfortable place in a newer crowd that managed to keep her tied down. However, there was still room for more; room for closure from the Niner Battle of 2012. She didn't expect it. She hardly let herself think about it, but when she did, it clawed at the back of her mind, like a vicious monster breaking through a cardboard box. That's when she would close the iron gates in her head again.

As long as she was with her new group, cracking jokes and the usual, she could focus on the better reality and didn't linger on the chance of forgiveness that would never become. For the first time in three years, she had real friends to sit with at lunch at the start of the school year. Junior year would be her year, there was no doubt about it. The other two were just set-up.

Approaching her lunch table, she slipped in on a conversation between Zoë Rivas and Tristan Milligan, talking enthusiastically over the chair where Maya was about to sit.

"_She's _in your history class?" Zoë asked with a raised eyebrow in half-digust, half-fascination.

"I know, I could've _sworn _she failed it last year."

"I thought so too! She never showed up, and when she did, she was stoned."

"Either way, the alphabetical seating plan means I'll see her every day." Tristan rolled his eyes.

"Unless she's busy getting stoned." she nudged back at him.

"Maya," Tristan started as she sat down, "You know Georgia Morris, right?"

"No," Maya responded, opening her bottle of juice, "but judging by your conversation, she's not your favourite person.

"Oh, Georgie's a _delight_," said Winston Chu as he jumped into an empty chair. His landing nearly failed, and his tray began to topple over. Managing to save himself before his food hit the ground, he continued his idea overtop of his friends' laughter. "Her locker's three down from mine, and it _stinks _like - guys, it's _not _that funny!"

Zoë was the first let out a proud laugh after containing herself for so long, only having let out a couple of smirks. Maya followed, glad to be able to break free, and Tristan added on top. "Sorry," Zoë chortled, as Miles Hollingsworth pulled up a chair next to Winston, completing the table of five, "it's just that some things never change."

"I'll tell you one thing that'll never change," said Miles as he sat, "Tris's obsession with junior hockey royalty."

Maya rolled her eyes.

Tristan's head popped up, his eyebrows raised and resting his elbow on the table, chin in his hand. "I'm listening."

Winston looked at Miles. "The Toronto Ice Hounds' newest defenceman Mister Kaden Tilley is in our Chemistry class," he said with dramatic expressions and hand signals, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

Tristan actually gasped, causing Maya to roll her eyes again. She never understood Tristan's fascination with the Toronto Ice Hounds. To her, they were just a bunch of kids that played hockey here. Maya was always told that "some of them might be in the NHL someday", but she couldn't care less. Besides, it's not like _all _of them were ending up in the NHL. Five of them tops. But Tristan's addiction to anything with the remote possibility of fame meant it was usually time for Ice Hound talk.

"He's a superstar," enthused Tristan. "He hasn't played a game in the league yet but he was, like, the first new draft this year."

Maya had enough of this conversation. While Miles and Winston continued to excite Tristan with their encounters with popular non-celebrities, she turned to Zoë.

"How is it that he's still so obsessed with getting with an Ice Hound when you've dated _four _of them and _all_ of them were jerks?" she whispered in her ear.

Zoë smiled as a silent form of laughter, then shrugged. "You know Tris. Anyway, back to Georgia Morris."

She told her the story of Tristan's less-than-favourable history partner, as he clambered on about players she's seen in the halls; all of whom were "superstar rookies", "superstar veterans", "superstar trades" or "inappropriate, pathetic, and horridly unfashionable swine" Zoë had dated. Even by the time Zoë had finished his grand piece on Georgia's backpack slipping under _her _desk and _her _leg-space in their English class last year, he was still talking without a change in tone or enthusiasm

"… and Saunders, I still can't _believe_ he's back in the league again!"

Maya heard this story a hundred times already. Ten seconds into re-emerging the conversation and she was completely bored.

But Miles and Winston didn't look bored; they were used to egging Tristan on like this. In fact, ganging up on him like this was downright their hobby. They were all great friends, but they scapegoated each other from time to time to keep themselves entertained. Today it was almost Winston, but Miles usually saved him from embarrassment and chucked it onto somebody else.

With an overdramatic fake gasp, inhaling what seemed like the entire cafeteria, Miles acted in complete awe at Tristan's latest announcement. "No. Way! What do you mean Saunders is back in the league?!"

"Wasn't he, like, totally out for over a year after an injury?!" Zoë piped in, joining on rounding on him. Tristan laughed, partly out of embarrassment, but also out of entertainment.

"Oh wait!" Maya found there was no harm in joining in. It was all for jokes, right? "And then there was the whole controversy he had with the league and everyone thought he got kicked out? Why _haven't _we heard this before, Tris?"

"Wait a sec …" Winston paused, finger in the air, waiting on some dramatic revelation. "Yes … I _have _heard this one before. Didn't you call us _as soon as it happened_?"

"Excuse you," said Tristan, ending the group's friendly attack, "_this _is nothing. You should've seen me crying when I got V.I.P. access at the West Drive premiere."

"That only happened because _somebody _had connections, sweetheart," reminded Zoë.

"Bless you and your connections," Tristan responded, and then went back to the conversation. "Maya, you have any I-H cuties in your classes?"

"Um …" she paused. They should be easy to tell apart, with their obnoxious team jackets and all, but over their years at Degrassi, they've become just a part of the scene. Nothing special, and definitely not worth glorifiying. Maya had never had an Ice Hound in her class before, since they were always all juniors and seniors, but it still took effort to remember if there was a red-and-black jacket was sitting in the corner of her morning classes for the first time.

"Yeah …" she remembered. "There was this one guy … _tall_." she ended on a flat note.

"Detailed," remarked Zoë, raising her eyebrows in sarcasm.

"He had some really long, Czech-sounding last name," Maya answered while forcing some of her salad on her fork. "Maybe Polish," she added, covering her mouth as she started to chew.

"O. M. to the G-est of G's," Tristan gasped, "you don't mean _Butkiewicz_?!"

"I don't know," Maya responded, "probably."

Tristan literally screamed, causing Maya to cover her ears, secretly awaiting desperately for their lunch period to end.

* * *

Last period of the day was French. Although their personalities were often clashing, Maya was both grateful and excited to be walking to class with Zoë. The first few months they had known each other was a bit rocky; Maya was a third wheel to Zoë's friendship with Tristan and the other way around, but they started to connect on their own when they both realised they needed an intense reality check. Once Zoë started to humble herself after her departure from West Drive and Maya stopped letting her poor choices from the past affect her, they managed to balance each other out and bring out their vibrant vivacities. No matter what interfered from time to time, they always managed to patch it up.

And so they were right beside each other when they walked into Mme. Tolbert's classroom. It was a different room than where they had studied before, and it was a little less artistic; no colourful posterboards depicting common French phrases, no photos of stereotypes such as the Eiffel Tower or baguettes. The desks were just in perfect rows, paired in twos, facing the blackboard with the date (3 septembre) and the instruction _trouvez vos bureaux en regardant le plan de table._

Maya saw the little chart held up to the board by a magnet, with surnames scribbled in to the places they would be sitting. She and Zoë approached it, following a few others who had just made it to class on time, and searched for their places. Quickly, she determined that all the As, Bs and Cs were in the first row across, so her eyes traced a squiggly line left and right until she found Matlin in the fourth row, first from the left. Right next to Navaro - Erik Navaro, who was always late and would probably drop the class after a few weeks, considering his abysmal grade in the course the year before.

"Thank _God_ for alphabetical seating plans," Zoë whispered in Maya's ear as she quickly made her way over to her desk, which was directly behind Maya's, but more importantly, beside an Ice Hound. Tristan may be the one who loved the hockey boys, but it was always Zoë who _dated_ the hockey boys. Maya rolled her eyes, hoping that the day could just finish itself by now.

She sat down, not even bothering to introduce herself to the Ice Hound behind her. Part of her brain was telling her _say hello, be nice_ but the majority of her thoughts were consumed around the situation that went down in the class before. The very memory was eat at her stomach, trying to eat her alive. That was a more pressing issue than New Guy; and besides, Zoë was talking to him right now anyway.

Grade 11 Business also had an alphabetical seating plan, which did not prove well for Maya. M was right next to N, and of course _he_ had to be taking the stupid course as well. Their "communication" for past year had been nothing but death stares from the other end of the hallway. The year before that was filled with secrecy, jealousy, and cunning tactics all directly behind his girlfriend's back. She didn't know how she felt about it then, but she definitely knew she hated it now, knowing that it ruined the best part of her high school experience. And she hated him even more for that, since it was all his fault.

The bell rang, signalling the beginning of class. Nobody was sitting in the desk next to Maya. She appreciated the time away from a desk partner, and decided to give herself a reward for putting up with_ him_ in Business by not paying attention to a single thing her teacher said.

Throughout the typical first-day lectures of _vous n'êtes pas autorisé à utiliser les traducteurs en ligne_ and_ il y a un petit paquet des temps de verbes en année dernière pour vous travailler_, Maya's eyes were glazed over. Her second language translator was in the part of her brain that a summer of writing music had completely blocked. It would naturally unwind after a few days of routine, so there was no sense of rushing it. It was all just background noise anyway.

Erik Navaro didn't show up until 20 minutes into the class, and she didn't notice this at all until the bell rang ending the day, when she almost tripped over him trying to make her way to the door. When avoiding running into him, she abruptly dead-stopped in the middle of a gap between the desks, where the Ice Hound who had sat next to Zoë nearly ran into her himself. Maya was too out of her world to apologise, or even properly notice.

As she headed towards her locker, still caught in that first-day daze, somebody jumped from behind her, grabbing her shoulders. Suddenly, the whole school - the students, the hallways, and the sound of Zoë laughing behind her - came jolting back to life. Zoë's laugh was full and powerful; apparently Maya's re-tune to reality had been quite dramatic.

"You're such a loser." Zoë said as her chuckles subsided, walking next to Maya on their way back to their lockers. "Okay, you know that Campbell Saunders kid Tristan likes?"

Maya was too done with Ice Hound talk to even sound remotely interested, or for that matter, polite. "Yes, I remember the conversation we had about him three hours ago, and the 11:30 p.m. phone call," she said without a change in tone or expression. She wished it would drive Zoë off, but she knew better; Zoë Rivas wouldn't stop _anything _just because it bothered somebody else; she'd stop when she'd get bored.

"Well, I officially understand why Tris is obsessed with him," Zoë went on. "He's a senior, he recognised me since his sister used to watch West Drive, _and,_" with added emphasis, "he's _quiet_."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Honey, come on, you _know _what they say about guys who don't talk a lot. They're more _physical_."

Zoë raised her eyebrows and bit her lip and then started _moving _in such a way that imitated … _oh, God_, Maya thought, _I thought you had a whole crew of people who taught you how to freaking behave in public!_

People were staring. Maya was violently blushing, and Zoë was so into her little sex dance that her eyes were shut. And as soon as Maya had time to think _she's going to run right into somebody_, Zoë was already apologising to some tall guy with thick, black hair-

Of course, she had to run into Zig Novak, didn't she? Out of all the people in the entire school, it was _Zig freaking Novak_.

"I'm so sorry," Zoë laughed, making it sound insincere, although it probably was.

"Sorry," he said at the same time. "Sorry, I'm so sorry." Maya remembered seeing from afar that he was always intimidated by the famous girl during their sophomore year. At the beginning of the year, his fear was justified, but now Zoë was less "bitchy" and more "feisty" as the year went on, which really only meant that more people liked her. Meanwhile, he was too afraid to look at her to even be able to fathom a guess at either personalities, the loser.

He couldn't even _look_ at her during his apology. His eyes were darting around idiotically, wondering where it was okay to focus. It was difficult for Maya to hide a smirk while watching him trying to avoid looking at her chest and instead focus on a random locker, before realising that was stupid and turning back to her chest; all of this in a matter of seconds. He was so nervous and his face was bright red and - _oh God, _please _look away from me_, thought Maya in a panic.

There was a moment when they just stared, until Zig's eyes left Maya's right as his feet left the spot they were rooted. Before Maya knew it, he was halfway down the hall, and she was still stunned that even after so much opportunity that day - and an entire year previously - that was the first time they made eye-contact without hatred.

Zoë knew about Zig and Maya's history. To be fair, most of their grade knew the basics, but was at least told the entire truth from the direct source. At first, Zoë would make jokes about their inability to just talk shit over already, but they quickly stopped and he was never mentioned. Tristan probably had a say in making that happen. Maya hadn't directly thanked him for that.

"Still retarded, I see," commented Zoë after a prolonged silence, watching him nearly run down the hall. She put her arm around Maya's shoulders; definitely _not _in a gesture of comfort, but more of in a I-am-a-normal-girl-and-we-are-friends-so-the-schoo l-needs-to-watch-us-do-"friendly"-things-to-prove- I-am-a-normal-girl manner, which for Zoë, was her typical intention. "Come on, Matlin, I'm having a car pick me up. I'll give you a ride."

Maya smiled as a thanks, and the two of them walked out the front doors of Degrassi. However, Maya's mind was still stuck inside the hallway, where she and Zig had that moment. So much had changed. She didn't even know what she wanted to happen between them anymore. What went wrong was obviously memorable, as well as what was continuing to go wrong, but they left their contact in such an awkward stage in between friends and something else. Did she want either? And did it matter?

_Well, I guess I'll figure that out when I see you in Business tomorrow, old pal,_ Maya said in her head, and then she pushed the idea of Zig Novak far from her mind.

* * *

_**A/N**__: As of now, I don't have as concrete updating plans as I had before, but I do hope I can update a few times a month. I'm in university now, which means I have a _lot_ less time on my hands ahahah! Thank you for reading :)_


	2. Crossing The Cosmo

_**A/N**__: Thank you for your support in the first chapter! In this one, I use quite a bit of French but I try to make clear what they are saying. If there are any problems, I'll edit this and put a direct translation on the bottom. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Crossing The Cosmo**

Maya heavily relied on her sister to get her through the summer between freshman and sophomore years of high school. Katie was nearly all she had after everyone turned on each other and the four best friends had officially gone their own ways. While her advice was often direct and occasionally pitiless (_"Next time, just keep your paws off your best friend's boy-toy."_), she would still make a point to Skype her every night while away at her summer job to keep Maya company during the transition from a destructive friend circle to a new start.

The only other person Maya communicated with that entire summer was some Asian kid named Winston Chu. He was in her Science class, right in front of her all year, but they had never spoken until about April. Even from there, for the longest time it was nothing more than casual small-talk during class and maybe the occasional Facerange chat after school. Once Maya made the decision to get rid of that last piece of poison and start fresh, their acquaintance stepped up to a friendship, and by the time they started back for Grade 10, it was power-besties Maya and Winston walking through the halls side-by-side. Of course, Winston was also touring his friend Miles through the new school, and Maya was hanging on to her newly-reformed friendship with Tristan and his famous companion Zoë, but it was the two of them alone who were responsible for the five of them becoming one great friendship circle.

They didn't have any classes together this year, and their lockers were the furthest away from each other in terms of their group of friends. It meant less time for them to be together, but they still managed to set in the same number of laughs through the wonder that is modern technology.

There was a meeting at the beginning of lunch, inviting those interested in becoming a part of the school orchestra to sign up for auditions. Maya - who was the first to sign up last year and the first to do it again - took a late start on her walk to the cafeteria once her name was written down. It was at her locker where she received a text from Winston.

"_Watch out, tris is quoting shakespeare lol_"

"_Hamlet or macbeth_?" she responded while smirking. Tristan was known to quote whatever William Shakespeare production they were covering in English class. He was still reeling from last year's Hamlet, and the analysis of Macbeth typically started right at the beginning of the semester.

"_Special occasion r&j, he's found the love of his life again"_

Of course he did. Now entering the cafeteria, Maya sent off one final "_That's new lol, is it that new ice hound with all the controversy?_" before she was close enough to get the answer directly from the source.

"I just do _not _understand how someone with such a European name can pull off a non-European accent and make it _work_," Tristan voiced, well into a passionate discussion about some special guy. "_Please_ explain to me the logic. I'm completely baffled, confused, and fascinated."

"I'm assuming I've missed a lot," said Maya as she took a seat at the table.

"Haven't you heard?" said Miles, thrusting his arms out to direct attention to Tristan, "_You _are looking at the future husband of Mister Dominik Butkiewicz."

"Guess where the _chlap_ is from? Guess again," said Winston, before there was room for anyone to respond. "The guy is from _Texas_, of all places."

"He speaks fluent Czech yet speaks perfectamundo English with _the _most amazeballs southern accent in the entire _history _of southern accents," Tristan enthused. "I. Am. In. _Love._"

"I know, he's in my class. So what about …" Maya tried to remember the names from yesterday, "Tilley or … Saunders? What ever happened to them?"

"I claimed Saunders," Zoë chimed in.

Tristan rolled his eyes "And you can have him. Do you _know_ exactly what kind of crap he got into before with the league?"

"Not every single detail," muttered Winston under his breath, "but I'm sure you're going to tell us."

"He played for the Frontenacs two seasons ago when he was a sophomore," Tristan began, fulfilling Winston's prediction that was too quiet for him to hear. "Underager. Superstar. Shiny gold ticket direct to the NHL with his name on it. Mysteriously left the team after a quote-unquote 'injury' -" he air-quoted "-about halfway through the season and didn't come back. Now, he's been traded here and is playing again for the first time since the 2011-2012 season. But guess what?"

Nobody guessed.

_"Apparently_," he continued, unphased, "Saunders was never really injured-"

"You literally told me all this already," interrupted Winston, balling up a napkin out of boredom. "Remember? When you called me crying in the middle of the night?"

Tristan held up a finger to Winston. "Hush, you, I'm not done yet. Moving on, everyone thought he was kicked out, but nobody knew why. The latest rumour - that I _didn't _know when I called you, so you better be listening _now_-" he emphasised "… is that the league dropped him _because _he was demanding for a drastic pay raise."

The reaction to this announcement was a distinct non-reaction.

"Do you even get paid in junior hockey?" Miles asked, trying hard to sound interested, but Maya could see through it.

"Peanuts. Like, maybe a hundred dollars a game, at most." Tristan responded. "He was asking for big, NHL-type bucks."

"And that's why you won't date him?" asked Maya.

"Well, he's obviously he's a plutomaniac and a narcissistic jerkface."

"Sounds like Miles, and you like him," joked Zoë.

"Sounds like Zoë, and you like her," Miles rebutted.

"As _besties_, yes," said Tristan, "but those are _not _qualities I'm looking for in my future husband."

"So what about Tilley?" Winston asked Tristan, "Why isn't he the new love of your life anymore?"

Tristan looked at his fingernails. "The season-opener was last night. He's terrible."

* * *

For the next three days, Business class was awkward and silent. On their fourth class sitting closer to each other than they wanted to, it was still awkward, but at least the silence was broken; Zig talked to Maya.

He didn't address that the last time they were this close to each other, she was on top of him. He didn't bring up anything that happened with Tori or Harry or the other victims of their past mistakes. He didn't acknowledge any of his faults in those situations, though neither did Maya; he started it first, he would have to end it first.

He had only asked her for a pencil sharpener, but in her mind she checkmarked it as a start.

* * *

On the same day Zig finally spoke to her for the first time since they screamed at each other on opposite ends of the hall, she also spoke to Zoë's French partner for the first time ever.

Typically, partner work was completed with the person who sat beside you. Predictably, Erik Navaro was a no-show, but Zoë was also absent that day, filming a commercial. It was her first attempt to return to acting after leaving West Drive, and after humbling herself down to a normal teenage girl, she learned not to take these type of experiences for granted. The day before, she could hear her boring Saunders with eager information on the product she was advertising, to which the teacher would rap with a sudden "_Parlez en français!_"

Madame Tolbert told Maya to move a row back to work with Saunders on finding the definitions for the unit's vocabulary. It wasn't a big deal; it could've been completed without a partner, but Maya was looking for as relaxing of an afternoon as possible. It didn't occur to her yet that if Zig Novak was her partner in the class before for the whole semester, she'd have an excuse to need to find "relaxation" in every French class.

When Maya slipped in to Zoë's desk, Saunders was already flipping through the dictionary, looking for the translation for the first verb on the list, _s'exprimer_. He didn't look away from his work to greet her, but at least his "Hey" was well-spirited.

He didn't seem to be anywhere near a social butterfly. Zoë seemed to think that it was his way of tricking girls to getting into bed with him, but in order to pull that off, a lot more confidence would need to be apparent. He hardly seemed to know the power he had. He wasn't flat-out "awkward", though Maya assumed he could've been a lot more embarrassed and/or embarrassing smack in the middle of those damned "teenage years". The thing about him was he was just on his own route socially; it looked kind of easy to get to know him, but hard to _really_ get to know him.

_'To express oneself'_ was written in chicken-scratches on a blank line near the top of his sheet. "So, Maya," he started, now looking up at her, "is there any part you really wanna do?"

He had really big brown eyes. Dark. It was hard to see his pupils against the tint of his irises. It made it even harder to tell what he was thinking. At the same time, however, Maya did understand that he was studying her the same way she was studying him. She wondered if he was having a difficult time reading her through the lens of her glasses.

"Well, Saunders," she replied, not sure if they were on a mutual first-name basis yet, "You've already gotten a good start on the verbs, I can do the nouns if you want." She ended her sentence like a question.

"Yeah, sure, absolutely," he said enthusiastically, supporting her unimportant decision. "I'll just copy yours once I'm done."

"Okay," she answered as she reached for a dictionary from the little basket under her chair. "And I'll copy yours too."

"Sounds good." There was a moment's silence, and then, "You can call me Cam."

"Okeydokey, Cam," she smiled, and she began scanning the _S_-pages for a translation for _santé_.

Maya was always terrible at getting the proper first impression of people, but she still made the assumption that what Tristan said about Saunders was completely wrong. For starters, he wasn't as big-headed as she assumed he would be at all; a star hockey player with a set future letting her in with his nickname? He wasn't even wearing his Ice Hounds jacket, albeit he was wearing long sleeves despite it being a million degrees outside. The fact that he would choose an old, beat-up plaid shirt over proof that he has a career in athletics said quite a lot.

This was the first Ice Hound she had ever really communicated with. There were Zoë's dates whom she met briefly before they left to go make out somewhere, and her sister went on a date once with the captain of the team, now an overager clinging on to one last year in the league. He made fun of Maya's flat chest the only time she met him. He and Katie never went on a second date.

She had expected all Ice Hounds to be like Mike Dallas, but Saunders - wait, _Cam _seemed to be very different. Maybe even nice. It was worth a shot.

"So how are you adjusting here so far?" Maya, asked, writing the word _health_ in curvy writing.

"It's good," he nodded. "My family moved down here with me so I have them to keep things normal."

The family came down with him? That seemed odd. "Don't you usually get a billet family or something?"

"Yeah, I had one with my old team, but this is just easier, really."

This concept confused Maya, since moving one person out of the house sounded easier than two or three, and if he had any brothers or sisters, even more. She did her best not to judge his logic.

"It's normal not to live with billets, though," Cam continued. "Do you know Dominik Butkiewicz?"

"Yeah," Maya laughed a little at first, but resigned once she saw Cam's expression of confusion. "Sorry, just my friend's kind of in love with him."

Cam laughed back. His laugh was full of life you would've never expected to come from him. "He and his dad came up from Texas this year, and then there's another guy who came from Florida with his parents and sister a few years back."

"Oh, okay."

"You might wanna let your friend know that Butkiewicz won't be interested in her, if you know what I mean," he added on. "No judgment to him of course, like whatever you like, but-"

"Don't worry," Maya smiled, "my friend's a guy too."

"Perfect! Match made in heaven," Cam joked.

"_Parlez en français, s'il vous plaît!_" came a voice from the front of the class. Cam and Maya looked at one another, smiled guiltily, and continued looking for definitions.

But Maya didn't want to stop talking. Now, it would just need a bit more effort with their limited vocabularies.

"_Aimes-tu Degrassi_ … more than your … _école_ … more than your old school?" She gave up at the end.

"_Oui, c'est bon_ so far, but _je n'ai pas_ … the chance to compare …_ les deux_ … yet."

"This is really hard," Maya laughed at their inability to communicate.

"_Très difficile_," he joked back.

"_Quelle école_ did you _étudier_ before now?"

"_À KCVI, le_ Kingston Collegiate _et_ Vocational Institute, _en_ … well, in Kingston."

Kingston. The name of the town rang so many unwarranted bells in Maya's mind. Not only that, creeping Facerange taught her that the school was also a familiar name; he went to the same place _she_ does. What if she told stuff about her to him and that's why he's being so nice? Just so he can reel her in to break her down, and she can finally get the revenge she never had the chance to get before?

First Zig, and now this. Well, might as well make the most of it.

"_Je sais_ someone qui _étudier à KCVI_," she finally attempted with a dry mouth, nervous for what could potentially come.

"Really? _Vraiment_?"

"_Oui,_ did you know Tori Santamaria?"

He paused to think. It was long enough to prove to Maya that he didn't know her, but her heart wouldn't stop pounding anyway.

"_Non … je ne sais pas une Tori Santamaria. Quelle âge est-elle?_"

"_Elle est_ my age. _Elle a_ moved away to Kingston from Toronto _l'été passé_."

"I didn't go to KC last year," Cam answered right away. "I was back in Kapuskasing, so I wouldn't have known her."

"That's fine," said Maya, slightly relieved. "I don't really talk to her anymore anyway."

_Or at all_, she thought.

She also figured that since they were in the zone, she might as well take a risk to get the details for Tristan. After a deep breath and finding her most defiant, yet casual voice, she asked "Why did you take the year off from hockey? If you don't mind me asking," she threw in as an afterthought out of nerves.

He stopped writing and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. "Um …" He screwed up his face in concentration, trying to come up with the best answer, or the best lie. "I was just really young. Made a lot of dumb mistakes. Took some time off to reset my head, get back to who I used to be."

Money issues. It had to be. He got too obsessed in the minor fame that comes from junior hockey and wanted more than he deserved. He didn't seem like the kind of person who would've acted like that. But as he said, he spent his time away from hockey re-starting, so maybe his attitude made a complete-180 as well.

"It sounds so dumb, I know," Cam laughed at himself, "but trust me, I really needed it, and I'm all good now."

"Hockey get to your head?"

"Pretty much."

Yup, definitely money issues.

"Are you a hockey fan, then?" asked Cam, seemingly to steer away the conversation.

"Actually, not really, but my friend Tristan is-"

"_En français_!" repeated the teacher.

Once again, the partners snickered among themselves, not caring about their potential consequences. Madame couldn't blame them for wanting to get to know each other in their first language, could she?

But suddenly, Cam's expression turned more serious. "_Nous devrions finir la tâche maintenant._"

Maya's heart didn't sink, but it took a slight hit as her mind translated his words. She was getting along with him so well, and now it just became all about schoolwork. It was all the hockey talk that did it, she thought. She specifically _told _him that she didn't even like it, and what is a future NHL-er hockey superstar going to love more than hockey? She lost another friend by what she did. It was just like Grade 9 all over again.

"_D'accord_," she said out loud to Cam, but only audible to herself. They didn't speak again until about five minutes before the class ended, when they switched the translations that they found for one another. Even then, it wasn't even in English, so it didn't count.

Cam never mentioned his "injury" as a reason for leaving the league.

* * *

That night on Facerange, Maya searched up Tori Santamaria's profile for the first time in over a year. There wasn't a ton that could easily be seen, since they had long since removed one another from each other's friends lists, but her profile pictures were open to the public. One-hundred and twelve items. Last time Maya could remember, Tori had only fifty selfies in there, so there was new material to observe.

Her current profile picture was of her and a tall, red-headed girl that wore so much mascara it made her eyelashes clump together. They were standing side-by-side on a beach, with palm trees straight out of a movie scene filling the background. Both of their tanned, bikini-clad bodies were great, and Maya felt a pang of jealousy; Tori manged to get even more curves up top, and trimmed slimmer and slimmer all the way down past her pierced belly button to her sun-shined legs. Maya was still hoping for any actual curves at all, instead of those awkward chest poke-outs that science called boobs. Guess some jealousies never change.

The photo caption read "_Cuba 2013! Great times with my best friend ever ! Xo -_ with Maddie Reiner" with a link to a YouTube video that probably showed the lyrics to whatever song was on the radio when she uploaded it.

It hurt Maya to see that. She secretly hoped that after all that drama that went down that she could never recover, but she was fine. Tori looked fantastic and happy, but the part that stung the most was that she had a new "best friend ever". It never occurred to her that the reason they "broke up" was because Tori could've found better than Maya, a new best friend. Whether that was the reason it happened or not, she got that as an end result, and it all worked out for her.

Maya couldn't look at any more photos. It just made her feel bad about herself. Clicking the little x in the corner of the screen, she just managed to see the caption "_In a relationship_" on her profile before seeing her the photo of she and Katie as her desktop background. So she got a new guy, too. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Slamming the top of her laptop, she threw herself into her bed sheets and rolled around until she trapped herself inside. She hoped she would suffocate so she wouldn't be able to think about Tori anymore - the beginnings, the friendship, the feud, or the aftermath. They all led to one another and it made her feel an emptiness in the middle of her chest, spreading through to her arms and legs. However, the emptiness was heavy with regret. They were a burden. A burden that _she _didn't feel anymore. _She _had moved on.

Maya didn't suffocate that night, but she did cry more than she did than the night that Tori found out.

* * *

**_A/N_****_: _**_I've decided that I'm going to try to post a new update every _other_ Friday since I have a lot more on my plate with school and such. I'll be seeing you guys in two weeks then :) Next time, we find out a little bit more about Cam and his family..._


	3. Illusions

_**A/N**: Thanks again for your support! This chapter's a long one, the longest I've written for this story so far (and I've written pretty far ahead!) Hope you like it!_

* * *

**Chapter 3: Illusions**

There was occasionally a bit of tension between Tristan and Maya, because Tori Santamaria was still a part of the picture. Almost every day since their friendship revived a year earlier, Tristan would tell the full story as if he had never told it before.

He never had more than a two-day battle with Tori in his entire life. When the first line that split up the group was drawn, it was those two on one side, Zig and Maya on the other. In fact, Tristan probably managed the unofficial I Hate Maya Matlin club more than Tori ever did, and he was never even directly involved.

When Tori's dad got offered a new job in Kingston and left Tristan behind, he came back for his sophomore year all alone. Sure, he had a few people from the drama department and whatnot, but they were more of his "co-workers" rather than "friends". Maya and Winston clicked together, as well as Miles tagging along. However, the new school play was quickly coming along, he quickly began to search for a closer connection with those with a passion for acting and theatre.

And lo and behold, on the day of the first meeting of the new musical, Tristan found _her_. The queen of his heart. His reason for existence. Miss Zoë Isabel Rivas, born February 12, 1997 in Windsor, Ontario, the former star of the best show in the history of anything ever, _West Drive_.

Normally at this point when Tristan tells the story, you can almost feel the presence of the choir of angels bowing at Zoë's feet.

He knew Gatsby was written off not because of the lack of fan support, but for her portrayer's outrageous attitude on set. He also knew that her mother led a serious intervention from her family, as well as the one or two people who stretched their connection enough to be her friends. He also knew that she had never had a day of regular schooling or ordinary existence in her life. He knew a lot more that he _refused_ to repeat while telling the story out of respect. But she was _Zoë Rivas_. She was his idol, and now he was going to be hers.

When Becky Baker, the producer of this year's production of _The Laramie Project_, asked for some volunteers to help direct as well as act (the end of the summer had been hard for her, and she needed a load off her shoulders), as soon as Zoë raised her hand, Tristan's was even higher. They connected through thespianism and creative production just as Maya connected with Winston and Miles through downright dorkitude, and not seeing Tori every day (but still very much keeping in contact, of course) brought Tristan to realise that he personally couldn't hold anything against Maya anymore, and he eventually excused her for all the mistakes for which she had already apologised.

"It was really easy to forgive her," Tristan announced to the table, particularly to the shy and quiet freshman Vivian Chu, who obviously wasn't expecting the full story when she joined them for lunch. "Especially since Maya gave that trust-crushing trash can Zigmund Novak what he deserved."

Maya's stomach clenched. He didn't give out the details, he _never_gave out the details, but even if he did, he didn't truly know the full story. Nobody did, other than Zig and Harry, but she knew that they pretended to forget them as well. It was a time which she never wanted to look back, but every so often, the tiniest reminder of false impressions brought everything back, and she hated the both of them, almost as much as she hated herself.

She had to keep reminding herself that things worked out the way they were supposed to. She was far happier with her new friends than she ever was with the ones she had in the Dark Ages, but she also supposed that was because she had more time to get to know Zoë and Miles and Winston. Slamming her fork into the cafeteria food on her tray, she searched for a way to get out of this mindset.

Vivian glanced over at her brother with an expression that clearly read "save me". She and Winston looked very much alike; they both had delicate facial features you couldn't imagine a look of anger or distaste to overtake. Winston's hair was much shorter than his sister's, but you were to imagine it were to grow out, it would likely that they would have matching dark, barely-bouncing waves. Their eyes were both covered in thick glasses and their teeth were naturally evenly spaced.

Their personalities, however, couldn't be different; Unlike Winston, Vivian stayed silent. She couldn't pull up a sarcastic remark to save her life, and nor would she open her mouth for anything else that was absolutely necessary. She didn't want attention, not like her brother. While he wore bright colours and personality-defining accessories, she stayed in dark clothes that didn't necessarily accent the figure that she carried. If they didn't look nearly identical with their china-doll features and same expression of constant curiosity, it was hard to imagine that they were so close with one another.

Winston was very protective of his sister, and Maya thought it was because he was afraid that she would slip away. The few times she had met Vivian, she kept to herself, either with a book or even just dozing off into her own imagination. Maya admired the way she didn't need others to entertain her (as she felt the same way about music), but at the same time, she worried for her introversion, that it would take over her. All throughout the previous week, Winston had kept a close eye on her as she started a new school, making sure she wasn't lost in the crowd or lost within herself. Even though she insisted that she found a group to sit with at lunch, he still invited her to eat lunch with his friends.

Maya couldn't remember exactly how it happened, but somehow, as it usually did, the conversation turned to Zoë.

Vivian broke her glance with her brother, who wasn't in any mood to help, and she looked back at Tristan, who was much more enthusiastic than anyone there.

"I … " she mumbled. "Cool story. I'm, um …" she paused, and Maya just wanted to help her stop being so awkward. "I actually have people I was going to eat with, so … I …"

Winston wasn't helping her feel comfortable, so Maya took charge. "Yeah, go ahead, Vivi."

The small girl smiled and carried her tray away to a nearby table, which to Maya's surprise, actually had others greeting her. They were presumably niners as well, considering that Degrassi was a considerably small school and Maya had never seen them before. And by the look of them, she didn't really want to see them again.

There were four other girls at the table, and going around the circle, starting with the seat now occupied with Vivian, every one of them seem more unkempt than the previous. The one at the end of the cycle, on Vivian's counter-clockwise side, looked like a wannabe-Avril Lavigne in her prime, complete with hair that hung over her heavily-lined eyes and baggy pants which hung low near her ass, which she was sure she only wore to piss off her mother. Maya couldn't imagine why such a sweet girl such as Vivian would voluntarily choose to associate herself with a group so opposite of herself, but she had to remember it was only the first week of high school. Groups change fairly quickly, as she knew very well.

Zoë was clearly paying no attention to Vivian's seating arrangements, because she changed the topic without intent of breaking tension.

"Anyway, plans for Wednesday: you're all coming to see _The Mortal Instruments_ with me."

"I'm in," said Winston, who was still pretending to be a closet teenage fantasy nerd, even though the entire group knew.

"Sure," resigned Miles.

"All righty," replied Maya, who, even though supernatural love triangles didn't wholly appeal to her, still appreciated spending time with her friends.

"Can't," said Tristan. "I'm going to the Ice Hounds game that night."

Miles rolled his eyes. "You're still into that Polack cowboy?"

Tristan looked appalled.

"A whole week, new record," added Winston.

"He's _Czech_, and yes, I am still into him. I ran into him at the weekend at the mall and he's surprisingly not a jerk."

"But there will be more games, Tris," said Maya. "We don't have movie nights that often."

"Besides," said Zoë, "none of the new players are even that hot anyway."

"Says you," Miles laughed.

"The old ones are still hot," she corrected herself, "just the new ones are … different."

"Didn't you kind of have a thing for _the new player_ Saunders just last week?"

"Over it, I figured that he's actually just awkward."

"Whatever," Maya interrupted, not caring to hear them argue any further. "Tristan, you don't have to go. We're going."

There was an awkward silence, just long enough for all of them to look at one another without making eye contact.

And then, out of the corner of Maya's eye, she saw Harry and Zig on the other side of the room.

At the same cafeteria table, eating lunch together.

"What the _fuck_?"

Everyone else turned around, saw the sight that cause Maya to swear, and looked back at her just as the bell rang.

She couldn't understand it. It didn't make any sense. First off, they were two years apart in age. She knew Harry was coming back for a victory lap, since news about those you were formerly associated with travels to you fast, but she didn't know it would mean that the two would become friendly. When did this happen? More importantly, _how_ did this happen? The only people the two of them hated more than Maya herself was each other. It was impossible that they could've handled being in the same room as one another, let alone enjoying cafeteria slop on a nice Monday afternoon.

The others in the group were all looking at Maya, not with concern, but just with observance. They all separately knew enough details about the story to conclude that Zig and Harry together either meant terrible news or something was really, really wrong in the world. None of them said anything, but they all stood up in unison, purposely choosing to exit the door furthest away from the mood-shifters.

Maya had a horrible thought that whatever they were scheming would definitely come back to haunt her.

* * *

Tuesday nights were usually quiet around the Matlin house, at least from Maya's perspective. They were her parent's designated date night, which they rarely ever missed, since the state of Margaret's condition was always flip-floppy. Katie would never Skype home those nights because her classes were scheduled at awkward times, not even mentioning the three-hour time difference. Maya's friends were all doing their own things and there was nothing TV that she would usually watch.

However, today was a different Tuesday, but not more fun or exciting, because Tiffany needed someone to babysit for her kids.

Maya's oldest sister didn't come visit very often. In fact, Maya lived the majority of her life without becoming close with her oldest sister. The eleven year age gap between them left very few years where Maya was able to walk and talk and able to form a relationship with Tiffany. She left for university at eighteen and, just before Maya's seventh birthday, and during her summers, she would always be out of the house, out with someone, having a good time, to the point where she was often only visible returning in the wee hours of the morning. She got engaged during her third year of her undergrad and rarely visited home other than for holidays.

Now, she had two kids - a four year-old son and an eight month-old daughter – a stable job as an orthodontal assistant just outside of Toronto, a house bigger than the one she grew up with, and to top it all off, she still had a nice body. One she never needed to work for. Maya was always envious of the fact that she had actual _curves_.

No matter, Tiff still needed someone to watch her kids from 8 until 11, even though they were already sleeping. It was a matter of housesitting and letting the dog out for a pee break once or twice; the same type of experience as a regular Tuesday night, but Maya was just getting paid for it. In packing peanuts, though. Family discounts evidently applied.

Maya had been at her sister's house maybe ten times in her whole life, about half of them in the past year to watch boring TV and make sure nobody broke in and took the kids. In this time, she learned which room you could turn the TV volume up the loudest so the kids wouldn't wake up, but you could still here the baby crying on the monitor if necessary. She knew which microwave made the best popcorn, and where to put the garbage evidence when she was done. She knew the Wi-Fi password, and in which rooms she could spend hours on Facerange looking through the profiles of classmates she didn't care about and reading into their petty lives made into an apparent spectacle.

About an hour and a half into her babysitting gig, once she had completed the first draft of the stupid French essay her teacher handed out in the first week, Maya flipped through the channels on the gigantic HD-TV she wished her parents would consider to be in her own home. There was the _Keeping Up With The Kardashians_ marathon on E! that she happily changed without a second thought. On TLC, there was a bride spending over ten-thousand dollars on her bridesmaids' dresses alone, which was a complete waste of money, thought Maya. There wasn't a DVD in sight that was meant for someone her age, so that was a flop. She started nearing channels all the awkwardly-produced local news and entertainment shows until she reached the official Sarnia station.

She stopped changing the stations, but she didn't know why. It was the bright red jerseys that first gave her a clue. She'd seen a few Ice Hound games in her lifetime, although she never suggested the trip to the arena in the first place, but it was always exciting enough when you were in the moment. On TV it was just never the same, but she figured she might as well know the general game specifics going into class tomorrow so she knew whether it was safe to ask "Hey, how was your game in Sarnia last night?"

It was the middle of the third period, with Toronto ahead 1-0, and other than that, Maya had no idea what was going on. They all looked so tiny on the screen, and considering this wasn't a major NHL broadcast, it was a complete waste of the flat-screen TV with the constant film grain. At least the announcers were clearer with better microphones than at the actual arena, but they were still speaking the equivalent of Latin with all the stats they were saying. She could make out a few names of people she saw around school in some point in Degrassi's three-year hosting gig, one of which being number thirty-three, Dominik Butkiewicz, standing in goal, eyes focused on the action ensuing on the other side of the Sting rink. Maya thought that it was probably boring having to stand on the other side for the whole game, only getting to participate if the other team was any good, but she supposed it was also similar to an orchestra – everyone's got their parts, and even if it's only the awkward cello backing the main melodies, the –

Suddenly, the crowd on the screen went wild, the red-dressed players nearly started tackling one another, and the camera panned to the Sarnia goalie, whose body language indicated that he was pissed off about something.

Maya couldn't tell you the first thing about hockey, but she knew that the Ice Hounds definitely just scored.

As the television announcers were representing the Sting, they didn't seem too enthused as they narrated the slow-motion action going on the instant replay. One player had the puck way off to the right side of the rink, by the blue line in Sarnia territory. Maya recognised the number – seven. That was Luke Baker, sister of the old Degrassi theatre girl. He graduated from Degrassi the year earlier, and back when he was a junior and Maya was a freshman, he caused a lot of drama with Tristan the night of the musical. She always hated him because of that, and was glad that he passed it to someone else so the camera would get off him.

Baker's pass somehow made it to another Ice Hound, one who was skating towards the puck from the opposite end of the ice and managed to carry it in a new direction without even stopping. Even the announcers were acknowledging that was an impressive move. Still in one fluid motion, the player (who was facing the camera and therefore whose number and name were not visible) slipped right through the Sarnia defense and glided the puck into the left corner of the net. There was a distinct pause in the slow-mo where nobody reacted. Then, at the same time, the Sarnia goalie realised what happened and looked away in defeat, while all the red players that were on the screen all proceeded to do some sort of sports-guy huddle, but the camera faded out before then.

The TV then showed another angle of the shot, and this time, when Baker passed the puck, the name of the recipient was clear. It was Cam Saunders, the quiet French-class guy who played for Kingston but didn't know Tori. The shot itself didn't look any more or less impressive from this angle, but knowing who fired it made all the difference for Maya. He was _good_. Well, he wasn't Gretzky or anything, but she knew that sports were definitely a lot harder than they looked.

She then asked herself why his being talented surprised her, since he had to be good enough to make it into what was known as the pre-NHL, and at first she didn't have an answer.

And then she remembered he had a reputation.

Pulling out her phone, she opened the Facerange app and went searching through some friends' lists. A lot of Ice Hounds had their accounts hidden well, since they were hockey players and there were a _lot_ of puck-bunnies out there. However, if you knew what you were looking for, it wasn't that hard at all.

First, she checked Tristan. She didn't expect that he would have Cam on his friend's list, but she knew he had at least one guaranteed connection. She scrolled through his friend's list until she found Dom Butkiewicz.

Before she decided to continue Facerange creeping, she looked up at the TV, which still wasn't finished their little impact-replay spiel. As yet another of the most recent point slid its way into goal, the screen faded to the Ice Hound bench to one of the players chugging down water through a plastic Gatorade bottle. She hardly recognised him before his player stats came on the screen, but once _Campbell Saunders 67, second goal of the game_ appeared in the corner, she could tell it was him. His big brown eyes were alive. Filled with the adrenaline that Maya could relate with when she played her favourite piece without faltering and just living in the melody. His sweaty bangs stuck to his forehead underneath the protective glass of his helmet, and his hockey gear made him look ten times bulkier, but still smaller than most of the players on his team. One of the players nudged him with their elbow as he finished his drink. He turned to them and, even though there was no audio coming from the bench, Maya could almost hear his laugh; full of life.

Once the action resumed of the game, she returned to her iPhone. Making matters as convenient as they could be, Dominik's profile picture was of about ten red hockey sweaters, each occupied with their own respective player. Based solely on the knowledge that Tristan had been constantly feeding her throughout draft season, she could recognise that all the familiar faces on the left hand side were new players to the Ice Hounds this year. Assuming that the right side would be the same, she scanned across until she found the shortest boy on the end, with the tight-lipped smile and eyes that seemed to grin on their own.

And to perfect the search, every single name was tagged.

Campbell Saunders' profile was heavily protected, and she expected as much, but she could see enough information to know that this was really him. Gender: male. Well, that was a friendly confirmation. Relationship status: single. Hometown: Kapuskasing, Ontario. Current City: Kapuskasing, Ontario. Clearly he wasn't one to change his statuses as soon as a change happened in his life.

She couldn't access anything else, except zoom in on his cover photo and see the tiny thumbnail that was his profile photo.

His cover photo was a photo of an outdoor hockey rink in the middle of winter; skate marks covering its surface with little snow piles and classic red nets on either end. Maya didn't know much about Kapuskasing, but the quality of the photo was an indication that it was likely a stock image he stole off the Internet for his profile, rather than uploading a personal photo. It did look pretty, though. She wondered if he preferred outdoor hockey versus the arena that provided the sport all year round, but she knew it didn't matter enough to ask him tomorrow in class.

The photo he chose for his display picture, however, was without a doubt a nice personal photo, probably taken from his iPhone. Maya couldn't zoom in to see it in a larger size (curse those privacy settings), but it really wasn't necessary; she could tell all you needed to know just based off the small square above his name. He was grinning more than smiling, but his eyes still turned up in their own happiness that he would never be able to control. There was a second boy in the photo, the one who seemed to be holding the camera since he was more in the foreground. He looked around ten years old, with a toothless smile and a nearly-identical eye slope as the boy next to him. It had to be Cam's brother. Maybe a cousin, but that would be stretching the physical similarity scale. They also shared comparable features, with the messy brown hair and wide jaws. They weren't duplicates, such as the way Winston and Vivian could've been gender-swapped twins, but you could tell they shared some genes along the line.

Something about Cam made Maya curious. He was someone wrapped in so much controversy, but she would never have expected as much of a fault in his life such as accidentally swearing in front of his parents. He was polite, he was so simple, he would not only take selfies with his brother, but upload them so the world could know.

It had to be a carefully-planned cover. She remembered when the rumours started to spread about her, and how far she hid from them until they no longer became relevant. That was just school-wide gossip, however. Cam's hockey league has a fanbase spreading across the province, and that meant he would have to be a lot cleverer. The year off was enough to set up his disguise.

Considering they were in one of the same classes, she felt it would be acceptable to add him up, so she pressed the little plus sign on the Send Friend Request button, and then opened up Google in a new tab. Typing "campbell saunders hockey" into the search window on her tiny screen, and waited for the results to load.

There were many pages she could choose from. There was the OHL website, the Ice Hounds website, a few league fanpages that probably only showed stats. This wasn't the way to go in terms of searching hullabaloo. These links would be all positive messages, saying how he's a superstar with a flawless record. It was a frustrating research. She knew she would have to ask Tristan, who was the online gossip expert, exactly how to do improve her "art", and maybe just send her direct links to the stories she found.

She switched from the Internet app to the messaging screen, but before she could click on Tristan's name, she could hear her baby niece's loud, piercing cry from the room upstairs. She closed the page and went up to see what was wrong, and by the time she returned, she forgot all about what she was going to ask.

* * *

By the time Wednesday arrived, Maya was able to get herself in the mindset that she would not only would she enjoy spending time with her friends, but she would also enjoy the film they were going to see, however not in the way that she expected. She read _terrible_ reviews about it in the newspaper (an ancient method of inquiry, but the only one from which she knew how to fully access information), and she figured it might as well be a comedy experience if the experience had to happen at all.

The other three that were coming all had different reactions. Zoë was eager to see it because "the guys are hot", which Maya could relate to on some degree. Winston actually read and enjoyed the books, but would not _dare _to go see the film alone. Miles maintained the same amount of non-enthusiasm he usually did when it came to this sort of stuff, but Maya figured by the fact that he kept coming to them, that there was obviously some level of enjoyment.

Tristan, however, did not change his mind. He was still set on going to the Ice Hounds game, but if he had time afterwards, he would come for the last ten minutes of the movie; to which they all told him not to waste the nine dollars and to go after his lovebug after the game instead. Maya still hadn't told him what Cam told her, about Butkiewicz liking Tristan's type, but she figured there wasn't a need, since as long as she's known Tristan, he's automatically assumed everyone he was attracted to was automatically attracted back. Why waste breath confirming something he already passionately believed?

The excitement of the film experience was heavily focused upon during Business class, since Maya's teacher had forced an in-class assignment to be completed with desk-partners. She didn't want everything to be ruined by Zig (again), so she let herself become high in the idea that she was going to see a shitty teenage demon love story with friends that were a million times better than Zig ever was to her as she told him to find the second half of the answers before sitting in her connected chair in such an angle so she wouldn't have to look at him. It was not the same desk-partner project incident as what happened with Cam the week before; that was for damn sure.

Speaking of Cam, Maya hadn't had the chance to congratulate him about the game the night before, nor did she have the idea to look into further investigation of his past. Not even Zoë, his immediate desk-partner had the opportunity, because he came in a few minutes late to a particularly curriculum-packed class that was after the quick hockey meeting that was called to meet in the office a few minutes before the end of the previous period. Madame Tolbert lectured on and on about when and when not to add masculine or feminine agreements to the verbs, which she was not aware, was a concept firmly driven into their minds the year before by Madame Jean-Aux. "_ODP!"_ Maya remembered with revulsion. She wanted the class to end as soon as possible.

Once the bell _finally_ rang for everyone to get out, Maya went directly to the music room to grab her cello before she left. She had orchestra during the lunch hour that day, and there was no room in her locker to store the instrument anymore, considering every year, the textbook size became larger and larger. The grade nine lockers were nearby, and she caught a glimpse of Vivian Chu chatting with the same Av-Lav would-be from the other day as she unloaded contents from her own locker. Maya rolled her eyes, hoping that this would be a temporary thing. She went in through the side door that Miss Oh _always_ left unlocked, grabbed her cello bag, and stood to wait outside of the school for her dad to pick her up.

It was times like these that Maya wished she was born earlier in the year. Most of the students in her grade were already sixteen, which meant they were eligible and had completed their beginners' licence test, but on top of that, there were a lucky few born at the beginning of the year who had even completed the nine-month wait period and earned their complete license. They were easy to spot, since they drove to and from the school in the cars their parents would let them borrow for the day, and asked all of their friends if they needed a ride – I'll drive you home! Being born in the middle of December, Maya hadn't even the opportunity to get the documentation to drive with a parent, and wouldn't be allowed for another three months. It baffled her that people would wait to get their licence. Winston turned of age at the beginning of the summer and he hadn't even considered studying to pass the beginners' test. She judged him for it quite a bit.

If she had the opportunity to drive her own car, she wouldn't have to wait by herself for her father, who only finished work at 3 and would have to take the extra half-hour to commute to pick her up. Sometimes she would find her way home with her friend's parents, but she was always sure never to take advantage of this unless they offered. Today was not a day of offering.

"Hey, Maya."

She looked to her left. Cam Saunders was standing right by the school's advertising sign, clearly waiting for a ride of his own.

"Hey, Cam," she responded, making her way over to the only person she knew, so those who walked by wouldn't think she was an awkward loner. "You ready for the game tonight?"

"Umm…" He looked down, looking uneasy. Maya congratulated herself on her ability to screw up a conversation straightaway. "I'm actually not playing tonight."

"Oh, really?" she asked. "Why not?"

Shit, Matlin, you're not supposed to ask these questions.

Luckily, it looked like he had composed my confidence this time around. "I actually never play Wednesday games," he explained. "I have an appointment every Wednesday, but we hardly ever have games that day, though, so it's not too bad."

She assumed the appointment to mean physiotherapy, but this wasn't really that much dirt; most of the Ice Hounds that have gone through Degrassi practically live through their physiotherapists.

It was at this point when Maya noticed that Cam was standing next to someone, a girl who remained completely quiet other than the loud chomping of gum through her lipsticked mouth. It didn't take her very long to recall that this was Vivian's friend who looked like she was _dying_ to sing about a Sk8er Boi.

She stared at Maya for a few seconds, and then looked away. Cam was looking at her as well, almost in expectance of something, but gave up after a moment of not getting whatever he wanted. Looking irritated, he looked back at Maya and gestured towards the other girl. "This is my sister, Alessia, by the way."

It baffled her that something incredibly, well, _poser_ would come out of such a family as the Saunders' but this didn't stop her from trying to be polite. "Hey, I'm Maya. I'm in your brother's class."

Alessia looked at her again for a split second, but didn't respond.

"Hey, good game last night," Maya told Cam before the silence became awkward.

"Thanks, I had fun," he joked. "I thought you didn't like hockey, though?" he stated as a question.

"I was babysitting, there was nothing else on TV," she laughed.

"Ah," he nodded to himself, as if he were adding that fact to his mental database.

Maya decided to continue joking around. "I was offended when you didn't accept my Facerange friend request last night, though."

He looked nervous. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I haven't used my –"

"It's fine, it's fine," Maya laughed, and eventually his tensed face uncoiled into a more comfortable smile.

"No, seriously, I'm sorry though," he was able to weakly laugh out. "Look, I'll log on right now." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, showed her the Facerange screen once it loaded, and narrated his tasks. "E-mail and password … friend requests … Maya Matlin … confirm. There you go," he announced, shoving the phone back away.

"Thanks!" Maya could feel her phone vibrate in her own pocket at that moment, likely a notification announcing Campbell Saunders has accepted your friend request. His urgency to fix a problem, no matter the size, appealed to Maya in some way, one that she couldn't classify. It was probably that he was so desperate to be polite: so desperate that there_ had_ to be an amount of falsity.

"There's our mom," Cam announced, as a black Pontiac Vibe pulled in and around the parking lot to the front of the school. He re-adjusted his backpack on his shoulder as Alessia picked hers off the ground. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"See you. Have fun at physio tonight!"

He paused for a moment, but then said "Okay!" and went to the open trunk to toss aside his backpack.

"He's not going to physio," said a quiet yet raspy voice in Maya's ear. Just as she turned around to check, Alessia passed the spot of the sound's origin. It wasn't until she too approached the car that Maya realised what she had just heard.

Cam has an appointment, a weekly appointment, but one that isn't physio.

It's causing him to miss games.

That's on top of his apparent getting kicked off the team in the past.

There was something up with him, Maya thought, and she needed to figure out what it was.

* * *

_**A/N**: I don't want to be one begging for reviews and whatnot, but I would like to hear when you're enjoying what I wrote and what you feel I need to work on, so if you get a chance to leave a quick comment I would greatly appreciate it! See you in two weeks!_


	4. Boss

_**A/N**: In case you were curious, the chapters are named after song titles by my musical queen, Tinashe. All of her songs are on my writing playlist, so I figured I could give her some kind of small tribute haha! The story title itself, however, is a lyric from the song Porcelain by Marianas Trench, because that song in itself shaped the entire original idea for the fic. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Boss**

Maya was grateful that she went to the movie with her friends; though her expectations of a cinematic disaster were fulfilled, they were all aware that the Grade 11 work load would drastically increase in a matter of time, and there would be no more chances for a night that all of them were free for a while – or at least, a night where _most_ of them would be free.

It seemed as though Tristan didn't really care that he missed the movie. By the third week of school, he started to distance himself from the group which Maya loved and was familiar. The prospect of gaining Dominik Butkiewicz' affection became much more of a focus than spending time with those supporting the crush. Part of it seemed worth it; it was clear that Tristan was more interested in Dom (as they were now told to call him) than he had ever been with any other boy, and that was really saying something, and Dom actually seemed to have some sort of an interest back. They ate lunch together, would study after school the days there were no hockey practice or drama rehearsals, and constantly would post some stupid video-of-the-day on each other's Facerange walls.

Maya could sense some sort of additional connection in this one, however. There was the "spark" you'd see in a romantic comedy, although it was obviously a lot less played down than in the movies. She didn't even feel the need to get involved. Normally when these types of situations happened between Tristan and a guy, she would always try to intervene at this point, because she knew he would end up heartbroken and would have to watch from the sidelines. And when her pleas wouldn't work, it would be up to Miles to put sense in Tristan's head.

On this particular Monday, Dom wasn't the only one sitting away from the unofficial "hockey table" in the middle of the room; Nate Galleass, who was the first Ice Hound to ever call Zoë his girlfriend, was sitting with a few other friends returning for their victory lap. Cam Saunders had a table to himself and his pop-punk-princess sister, who had her arms folded in front of her lunch tray. A few of the newer players Maya didn't recognise had a table with a bunch of random students, all talking as if they had been best friends for years. One at the table was Zig, which of course, made Maya's stomach drop. Nobody else in her group must've had seen this, or else they would've all tried to distract her at once. This left Maya to distract herself.

"So, Chewy," she started, "Nameera's locker is only four down from mine this year."

Winston held his fork suspended in mid-air, letting his face fall to a mixture of puzzlement and excitement. Zoë scoffed at him. Miles decided to join in on the playful teasing.

"What do you say, man? Is this finally going to be the year you step up the courage and say a _single_ word to her?"

Even before Maya and Winston became friends, she had heard of his larger-than-life crush on the painfully shy yet subtly beautiful Nameera Wasem. It was common knowledge at this point, the only ones innocently obscure from the fact that everyone knew were both Winston and Nameera themselves. Miles couldn't even predict their potential as a couple, considering that he had hardly ever seen her eyes peer up from the sketch book she always had open on her desk. However, he knew it didn't matter whether she could tolerate Winston's closet High School Musical obsession or not, not until, at least, they had at least could be mutually brave to maintain a conversation.

Winston was always embarrassed and highly defensive whenever anyone brought up the N-word. "Guys, I'll do it when the time is right. Don't worry about it."

"Come on," continued Miles, "literally half of your high school career is over, and you've been pining over her for _all_ that time."

"You know what," decided Zoë, standing up, "Where is she? I'm getting her."

"No you're not!" Winston nearly jumped across the table to get himself to where Zoë was standing, searching. "No, this is _my_ crush. _I _get to be in charge of the timeline."

"Yeah, well, your timeline sucks. I just can't believe I didn't think of this before!" she laughed.

A few people from nearby tables started looking at this scene. Maya and Miles smirked at each other.

"Zoë, Zoë, Zoë _please_. I'm _begging_ you."

Suddenly, she started walking off in a new direction. "I just want you to have your first kiss by the time everyone else here has lost their virginity," she called back.

Winston went running after her, screaming for her to drop the whole idea, leaving Maya and Maya to absorb the remaining stares from around the caf. Once the other students' reactions died down, Miles leaned forward against the table, placing his elbows down so he could be closer to Maya on the other side.

"Just goes to show you, Chewy's always a good target when you need a distraction from Novak."

Maya looked up from her food. Miles was looking right into her eyes. She could tell; he knew Zig was over there from the start. And he didn't do anything.

Miles was the first person Maya told about the situation with Zig. The initial idea came out by accident when Miles told her that "if you never say it's a _relationship_, then it's just a _hookup_", to which she mumbled under her breath "Somebody should've said that when I was with _him_." He wouldn't stop pestering her until he found out who _he_ was, so when Maya finally told him the bare minimal details just to shut him up, she was surprised at just how well he listened. He asked the right questions, the ones that made her think, and the ones that made her realise that maybe she wasn't the villain in all this. And when the conversation ended, its details surprisingly _weren't_ spread around the school for all to know. Maya hadn't gone through anything in recent times which she would need someone for whom to vent, but she knew as soon as anything simple popped up, Miles would be the one to turn to.

"So why did I have to come to my own rescue this time?" Maya finally responded.

"You're fifteen years old," Miles responded. "You're a big girl. I'm not your babysitter. You gotta do shit for yourself now."

There was a pause. Maya let his words sink in, allowing their impact to expand; they hurt. They made her sound childish, immature, always needing someone to pick up after her. And the worst part is that his words were probably true.

Miles was the relationship expert, despite only having ever been in two committed relationships, and he keeps those details extremely quiet. He did have hook-ups, of course. The first year that Maya knew him, she watched him with one girl after another, and apparently one or two guys, but had the magic charm of being able to end it without things ever getting awkward.

In the beginning of the summer, once he had returned from his father's business trip to Ottawa, he ceased this type of activity. He told his friends that he met a girl there and that they would like to keep things long-distance, but he _would not_ tell them her name, or what she looked like, or when they would be able to meet her. It was frustrating to Maya, especially since he was always so open with his romantic prospects in the past.

A new girlfriend, however, did not stop him from continuing to give advice; in respect, giving Tristan and Dom the green light, and hopefully ending the continued train wreck that was Zig Novak.

"You're right," said Maya after she adjusted to his statement. "I can do it all on my own. Just tell me once what the best route is and I'll do it."

"It's simple: first, get over him-"

"I am _very_ much over him, Miles, and you know that."

"Then stop caring," he retorted. "Or at least stop _acting_ like you care."

"How do I do that when I know he still _hates_ me?"

"A lot of people hate you, just do what you do with everyone else."

"You know, you're not helping," Maya snapped. "I don't care if we completely settle this or not, but I just need to be able to tolerate being partners with him in class."

"Given the circumstances, it looks like you're going to at least _try_ to settle things if you want that to happen."

"But why should I have to do it? I didn't do anything wrong."

Miles looked exasperated. "_Because_," he said, "_you_ are the one who wants to fix things."

Maya couldn't disagree with that statement. If it were up to Zig, this feud would last forever. She knew all too well how much he liked to make a spectacle from nearly nothing.

"Another piece of advice?" continued Miles as Maya picked up her water bottle for a drink, "Get a new guy."

Maya scoffed mid-sip, causing her to half-choke on her drink. "You're ridiculous."

"Everyone knows that you can break out of this Virgin Mary cover-up, so do it again."

That stung a little bit. "I would rather _not_ have drama this year. And besides, I don't even like anyone right now!"

"I'm not asking you to like anyone right now, I'm not asking you to hook up with every guy in the school," Miles responded, hardening his tone in a way which indicated he didn't want this to turn into an argument, "but I'm just saying that maybe the best distraction from your _old_ man-meat is to get _new_ man-meat. Soon enough, you're gonna be even more stale than Chewy, and that's saying something."

Maya hated it whenever Miles brought up her recent lifestyle choices, but she knew he was only saying these things _because_ he knew she hated them so much. It would get a reaction out of her. That was the way he worked: piss people off enough until they do what he wanted.

"Fine," Maya resigned, "but since I don't like anyone, you're in charge of finding the guy."

"Hmm, how about Harry?" he smiled.

Maya knew he was joking, but it definitely wasn't funny. "You're a dick."

"So I've been told."

Just then, Zoë was guiding a limping Winston back through the cafeteria doors and across the room, where the crowds resumed their staring.

"Idiot tripped trying to flag me down," Zoë whispered when they got back to the table.

Maya and Miles both laughed, knowing that Winston's constant comic relief would tone down any conversation, but Maya knew that what Miles told her was probably right. The only problem was finding someone she could tolerate enough to kiss, but was pathetic enough to use, without feeling guilty. It was difficult to even imagine.

* * *

In fifth-period French later that day, Maya Matlin found her new eventual boyfriend.

He wasn't in class that day, nor was he ever on time, but at the end of the class, Madame Tolbert announced that beginning the next day, unit culminating assignments will be completed with desk partners. That meant there would be nearly a week's worth of classes working solely with Erik Navaro, and since it was clear he would continue to ditch class whenever possible, that meant that most of the assignment would have to be completed outside of class. Without anyone else watching. All _alone_.

It might take a little while longer to execute, and Erik might not have the best reputation, but it would send the message to Zig that _anyone_ was better than him.

It was the first time in her life that Maya was actually exited for tomorrow's French lesson to come.

* * *

"So you're gonna get a revenge-boyfriend to fix something that happened a year ago?" Katie asked in disbelief.

"Not necessarily for _revenge_," Maya justified over the Skype screen, "but more of a way to get us both to move on."

"Oh, that's right, _you_ already know the meaning of a revenge boyfriend."

"Ouch."

"Sorry," Katie quickly apologised.

"Just … what do you think is so bad about this idea?" she wondered.

"It just sounds kinda … _philandering_."

"Don't go all journalism-vocab on me. Can you say that in English?"

"Look, Maya," Katie began as she adjusted herself in her seat, thousands of miles away, "since getting with another guy is kind of what started this whole conflict with Zig, finding a new boyfriend might just add to the fire instead of putting it out."

Maya couldn't necessarily disagree with this, but she was still going to argue it as much as possible. "It didn't work last year, though."

"But you weren't in any of the same classes last year. You didn't really have a chance to use being single to your advantage; I mean, now you can be single and use it to say that you would rather be _alone_ than with him."

Maya thought about that for a second. It could potentially work; the idea would have to process for a little while longer, and then she would have to compare her options. They both sounded like they would be a slap to Zig's pathetic, conniving face, which was all that was truly necessary; what it came down to, selfish thoughts or not, was which of her two choices would be of further benefit to her in the long run.

"And look," Katie added on, "if you find a guy you actually like and would want even without Zig in the picture, then go ahead; but in all honesty, it's just not worth leading someone else on again."

"_Excuse_ me?" Maya asked.

She was _pissed_. Out of all the things her sister could've said, she said the exact words that made _her_ into the bad guy, and she knew it too.

"No, Maya, I-"

"You know what," Maya retorted, "thank you for the 'advice', but I'd prefer it if you didn't try to make _me_ be the bitch of the whole situation in the process."

She closed the laptop, not even caring that their now-rare conversation had only just started, and fell onto her bed in a single spill. She lay there motionless, not even adjusting her position into something more comfortable, and ignoring the sound and rumble of her stomach that begged for a late-night snack.

Even though Katie had a point, Maya refused to go through with her plan simply based off her last comment alone. Miles' plan it would be: find a cute boy, date the cute boy, show him off, make Zig realise he's a dirtbag, no more feeling uneasy around the guy who ruined your freshman year. All she needed now was to corner Erik in tomorrow's French class (if he decided to show up), and then, just add water. Problem solved.

Only when she was half asleep did she remember that Katie had given her some pretty useful guy advice in the past.

"_Don't let some guy come between you and your best friend._"

Funny enough, Maya ignored her sister last time too.

* * *

The next day, when French class rolled along, Maya told herself that she should've known better than to expect that her plans would work perfectly.

When she first walked into class, Madame Tolbert pulled her aside.

_"Maya, pour le projet, tu dois trouver un nouveau partenaire."_

Find a new partner? Why would that have to happen?

"_Pourquoi_, _Madame_?"

"_Erik s'est quitter la classe à la fin du semaine passée._"

Of course he did, thought Maya. Of freaking course did her only plan for getting back at Zig have to be the lazy ass she knew he was and drop the course. That screwed up the entire idea of vengeance. And as a pathetic afterthought, she realised that it would also affect her French grade.

"_Tu dois choisir deux personnes qui tu peux te travailler; vous serez une groupe de trois."_

"_D'accord." _Maya responded, turning her back to her teacher and heading towards her seat.

Goddammit. Groups of three suck. It's always two people actually doing work and one lethargic idiot claiming credit for the assignment he watched on the sidelines. But at least in this circumstance, she was able to choose the loser who got free marks. But that didn't matter right now.

As sad as it sounded, Maya couldn't force herself to really worry about her project. In her mind the previous night, she not only accepted the concept of being connected with Erik, but had even let herself wander to date ideas, how they would look when walking down the hall together, the move to his cafeteria table, situated in just the right spot around the three which Zig would flip-flop between, which would force him to notice just what she had.

All of that dreaming, those imaginations that could've become a reality based off one project, gone to complete waste.

"Daydreaming?"

Maya turned her head slowly to face Zoë and Cam behind her, both leaning forward on their desks to get closer to her. Once the images of their smiling faces had registered in her mind, it helped put her at ease.

"Why the grumps, grumpy?" asked Zoë.

Maya almost told them about her Erik plans, but one thing would lead to another and it would just make her seem like a payback-hungry slut, or at least Zoë would try to say that in somewhat of a less-demeaning way; she also didn't know how Cam would react to this type of thing. If the topic was going to come up at all, it needed to have time to really develop, and ideally, dissolve into irrelevant meaning.

Instead, she just decided to instead ask "What's your topic for the health presentation?"

"Effects of teenage smoking," responded Cam.

"We wanted something basic so we could spend more time working on making the poster board look good," added Zoë. Making projects look pretty was her strong suit. How the ability to put glitter on a sheet of cardboard proved intelligence was over Maya's head, but as long as it was on the rubric, she was okay with having it done; especially since the classroom was still bare and lifeless.

"Well, since my partner is officially absent for the rest of the semester," exclaimed Maya, "I'm sure you'd need someone extra to do additional research for this tremendously difficult and uncommon topic."

"Absolutely not," responded Zoë, with the deadpan stare Maya knew she wore when she was acting.

"She's joking," said Cam instantly, almost looking worried that Maya would be offended. When Zoë broke her stance, he also withheld his fear. "You can work with us if you want."

"Thank you," Maya smiled, pulling her chair around to face both of them.

The goal for this first class, according to Madame Tolbert, was to decide exactly what research was to be done, and how the work will be distributed through your partnerships (or trio). What Maya, Zoë and Cam did was spend five minutes deciding that they would do all that stuff next class, and spent the remainder just chatting about a little bit of everything, except for the effects of teenage smoking. Before they knew it, the bell rang to signify the end of the day, and it felt as though to Maya that they were forced to leave a coffee house where they had been gabbing all day. Projects were never "fun", but this one was enjoyable by some means, since she was completing it with one of her best friends, and a hard-working sweetheart that evened things out when she and Zoë's sass became a little much.

Zig didn't even cross Maya's mind until she ran into him the next morning, and when it happened, she still felt uncomfortable, but Erik Navaro's face wasn't even a mental deliberation at all.

* * *

**_A_/_N_**: _Next chapter is one of my favourites. I'm not gonna spoil it for you, but ... it's good._


End file.
